The Christmas Crisis
by TolkienScholar
Summary: Drabble (x6.5). Violet Baudelaire has never felt quite the same about Santa Claus again. Gift!fic for Les.


**Snowball!fic for Les (The In One) in the Caesar's Palace "Winter Wonder War" Drabble Event. Also fulfills Caesar's Palace Prompts: Nova Challenge, Prompt 11: Innovate.**

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 **Word Count: 650**

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 **Disclaimer:** _ **A Series of Unfortunate Events**_ **is the property of Lemony Snicket (Daniel Handler). No copyright infringement is intended.**

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It pains me greatly to say it, but a visit to Santa Claus is rarely as pleasant an event as everyone expects. Sometimes this is the fault of the child, who is so excited to see Santa that he simply cannot help wetting his pants. Other times, it is the fault of the Santa, who instead of being jovial (a word which here means "jolly and cheerful, as all Santas ought to be even if it is the end of their shift and they want to go home"), is quite grumpy and scares the child into wetting his pants. But no matter whose fault, it is often the case that visiting Santa is an unpleasant (and wet and smelly) business.

If you have read the history of the Baudelaire children, however, I dare say you can guess that the eldest Baudelaire's first visit to Santa was a good deal more than just unpleasant. Indeed, I think you would agree that her parents should never have attempted such an inauspicious meeting. But alas, at two years old, Violet Baudelaire was far too young for anyone to imagine the dreadful extent of her and her as-yet unborn siblings' bad luck, so take her to see Santa they did.

At first all was well. Violet was placed onto Santa's big red knee and, with her pants quite dry, informed him that she wanted a screwdriver and screws of all different lengths. Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire were overcome with pride for their grown-up little inventor. (The screwdriver and screws, of course, were already wrapped up and hidden away in the attic until Christmas morning.) The trouble came when one of the elves, a young fellow with a cherubic face, was lifting her down from Santa's lap.

"Well now, little inventor, do you ever get hungry while you're working?" he asked.

Violet answered honestly that she did, and that in fact, she was rather hungry now, as she'd just been thinking about how Santa's sleigh worked and whether there were any improvements she might make to its design.

With a wink and a smile, the elf handed her a candy cane. "Then you'd better eat this to keep your strength up."

"Thank you very much!" said Violet very politely, without her parents even having to prompt her. Then, taking the elf's advice, she stuck the candy in her mouth and began to suck on it.

If you have ever had the misfortune of having an allergic reaction, you may know that they do not all occur at the same rate. Some may take several hours, while others are almost immediate. Violet's reaction to the peppermint was of the latter kind. By the time she and her parents had exited the children's department, she was beginning to feel a little itchy; by the time they were at the checkout lines, there were visible red marks all over her skin; and by the time her anxious parents were carrying her out to the car to drive her to the hospital, she was itching and crying so miserably that the Baudelaire parents thought on the whole they would rather she had just wet her pants.

I can say with relief that this story does have a happy ending, which, as you know, few of my stories can claim. A nice bath and a couple of hours of rest got rid of the hives, and the doctor confirmed that the peppermint was at fault. The Baudelaires' Christmases were thenceforth entirely candy cane-free, and especially so as Klaus and Sunny were, in their turn, discovered to also have allergies to peppermint. And of course, Violet got her screwdriver and screws and spent the rest of Christmas day happily building a new shelf to hold tin cans, complete with a built-in can-opener.

But from then on, like most other children her age, she never quite felt the same about Santa Claus.


End file.
